Five Nights With Lancelot
by Vicky-V
Summary: There are five nights spent with Lancelot which stand out in Merlin's mind. But not always for good reasons. LancelotxMerlin. Oneshot. Ep 5 spoilers.


**Pairing:** LancelotxMerlin

**Notes:** Spoilers for episode 5 and 1 of season 1. It should also be noted that this is a censored version of the fic, missing a brief piece of smut near the end. The full version can be found at my Live Journal fanworks account, a link to which is in my profile.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing in connection with BBC's Merlin, nor do I make any money writing this fanfiction.

xxx

**Five Nights With Lancelot Merlin Particularly Remembers**

**1:**

Lancelot's insistence that he was just fine was brought to an abrupt stop when Gaius prodded him just above the wound which had been picked up fighting the beast away from Merlin. It wasn't a hard enough prod to draw any blood or make things worse, but it did cause Lancelot to give in and fully accept the help being given to him. He sat, looking awkward, while Gaius examined the rest of his health, which was deemed to be fit. Lancelot was then instructed to not do anything which would aggravate his wound until it was properly healed. Preferably, he was to do nothing for the first night and was then asked where he was staying.

At that point there was silence in the room. Merlin found himself looking at Lancelot, who was looking back at him. When taking Lancelot back to Camelot, Merlin's only concern had been getting him to Gaius as soon as he could. Then, just as quickly as he had decided to give Arthur's orders of exercising the dogs a miss in favour of making sure Lancelot would be okay, Merlin made up his mind on the question of where to stay as well.

"He could stay here."

Gaius looked around the room in a way which made a point to Merlin about nearly every available space being stuffed with various things. The bed Lancelot had been examined on was Gaius'.

"Where here?"

"In my room."

Merlin could feel it becoming difficult already. But he could also feel a fierce determination to get his way on this.

Gaius managed to look even more sceptical. "And where would you sleep?"

"I'll be fine on the floor. I'm used to it. I grew up having to do that."

"No, don't do that," Lancelot said, trying to stand up only to wince and have to sit again. "I'll find somewhere."

"And what if you don't?" Merlin asked. "You can't sleep in the street or the stables in your condition."

"I've had to before."

"You saved my life," Merlin said, feeling a push in his chest as he continued to chase the issue. "The least I can do is give you my bed."

"You don't have to." Lancelot shook his head, slightly and once. "I'm not into the habit of favours."

Merlin turned to Gaius. "It would be easy to keep an eye on his wound this way. Should it open again, the nearer he is, the better it would be."

As Gaius looked towards Lancelot, who was sat leaning forward, pressing one hand against his wound, Merlin did too. Then Merlin looked back to Gaius, who had his eyebrows dipped down in that way which strongly suggested he was considering the suggestion. Merlin bit the insides of his cheeks in an attempt to not smile too soon.

It wasn't long before Gaius nodded, still looking at Lancelot, whose mouth opened. When Gaius raised his hand, Lancelot's mouth shut.

"Take my advice," Gaius told Lancelot. "You won't win on this."

xxx

It was dark by the time Merlin got back, mostly due to having been made to exercise the dogs, sweep out and clean the kennels, feed them, polish Arthur's armour, fix a tear in his shirt and then exercise the dogs again because he had been so late doing it the first time. And Arthur _knew_ Merlin and those dogs didn't get on well.

When Merlin got back, Gaius was bent over a thick book; scribbling notes into it and doing so while having various candles lit around the room. He looked up with his eyebrows raised when Merlin entered the room, dragging his feet along because his legs felt as though they were made of metal.

"Going to bed," Merlin muttered, managing to say that before Gaius starting telling him about slacking off with his work, even if it was to help an injured heroic stranger.

Gaius didn't tell him anything like that. The look on his face was able to do so much better. He did, instead, inform Merlin that he had already sent Lancelot up, so he would have to find somewhere else to sleep.

When he entered his bedroom,, Merlin couldn't tell whether Lancelot was already asleep or not. He lay on his side, facing away from Merlin and towards the window. Merlin decided to assume he was asleep, so went about pushing away the small candles which sat on top of the rickety chest of drawers beside his bed. When he deemed there to be enough room, Merlin twisted round his chair, sat and slouched on it, kicked his boots off, rested his feet in the space he had created on the drawers and reached down to grab the fur which had been left on the floor to drape it over his chest. As he closed his eyes, Merlin vaguely recalled Gaius telling him the fur needed to be washed.

Having spent his life sometimes needing to sleep on the floor, Merlin had thought sleeping in a chair with his feet up would be easy. But he quickly found this wasn't really the case. It was hard to get a semi-comfortable position without an edge digging into his body and he couldn't find a way to rest his head which didn't cause his neck to ache. Just as he was considering giving up and just sleeping on the floor, he heard:

"You told me you're Arthur's manservant, didn't you?"

"What?" Merlin opened his eyes to see Lancelot, sat up enough to put his weight on his elbows and watching him.

"Didn't you tell me that you were Prince Arthur's manservant?"

"Yes." Merlin nodded.

"You'll have too many aches if you sleep like that." Lancelot nodded him over. "Come on, I can make room."

Without thinking, Merlin was quick to accept the offer because he could already feel his neck becoming stiff and his back starting to hurt. Merlin walked around to the bed's right side, remembering that Lancelot's wound was on his left.

Even with Lancelot moved over as far as he could without too much risk of falling off, there still wasn't much room. While Merlin was grateful, he couldn't shake the feeling that Lancelot had offered mainly to be nice and maybe also because he still felt guilty about having to take the bed. It took a few moments of shuffling, the bed creaking, there being too many elbows and legs which caused the odd hurried and awkward apology, but somehow things worked out as well as they were able to. A back-to-back approach was first attempted, but Lancelot ended up having to face Merlin's back, again to avoid aggravating his injury. Because the bed was so small, they really couldn't help but be pressed up against each other, so Merlin could feel the tense muscles in Lancelot's chest and arms, as though he were ready to attack the first thing which moved.

That first thing which moved was Merlin, reaching back to touch Lancelot's shoulder just to be sure. But there was no attack. Instead Merlin felt Lancelot's shoulder jolt.

"You're so tense," he observed. "You can sleep like that?"

"No," Lancelot said and Merlin could feel his breath against the back of his neck. "I'm just not used to being this close to anybody."

Merlin really couldn't help but grin. "I'm not going to do anything to you while you sleep."

As there was a soft laugh from Lancelot, Merlin realised he had been a little tense too because he felt himself relax.

"I'll find some lodgings tomorrow," Lancelot said.

Merlin didn't want him to, but didn't bring it up. Instead he tried moving away a little bit, but that turned out to be a mistake because he found himself losing his balance. His head spun as he grabbed at the edge of the bed, trying to keep himself upon it, and then found himself being pulled back again. Merlin's thoughts swirling with the panic of falling meant it took half a moment for them to catch up with the rest of him. Then he realised he wasn't falling off the bed but still on it, with Lancelot's arm around his chest.

"Thanks."

Lancelot smiled and Merlin knew it. He was being held that close to him, he could feel the movement of Lancelot's lips against his neck. Merlin could also feel how tense Lancelot still was.

xxx

Lancelot was the first to wake the next morning. As he got up, Merlin woke and realised the first thing he felt was Lancelot letting go of him.

xxxxxxx

**2:**

Merlin knew Lancelot had been genuine during that first night when he said he would find some lodgings. But that ended up not happening and it turned into one of those things which wasn't mentioned and then forgotten all together. It was probably still lingering in Lancelot's mind, Merlin guessed, but each evening he came back again with aching muscles, filthy clothes and a somewhat glazed look in his eyes which meant he would be asleep as soon as he was off his feet. It was no condition to be in for knocking on doors and asking if they knew of a bed going spare.

Lancelot ended up staying with Merlin and Gaius and the bed continued to be shared. That was a part of Lancelot's time in Camelot which continued as it started without any question or further discussion.

The reason behind Lancelot coming back in such a state was always due to orders coming from Arthur. He had an almost endless list of things he would have Lancelot sweep out, scrub, polish or whatever he wanted done with it. And he would manage to have things left over for Merlin to do as well. When Lancelot was done, more often than not Arthur would find something to nit-pick at and order for it to be done again. Merlin had even spotted Arthur deliberately making a mess of things again for Lancelot to re-do.

Merlin sympathised with Lancelot and he certainly didn't envy him. He knew Lancelot was used to hard work, but also knew it tended to include sword practice and combat skills. Not sweeping filthy straw and scrubbing dirty walls.

The end of the day started to find Lancelot sat on the edge of the bed with Merlin behind him, dipping a small cloth in and out of a bucket partly-filled with water to wash the dirt from his skin and hair.

"It's character building at least," Merlin said, trying encouragement.

"I suppose." There was a small smile from Lancelot, which dropped quickly. "But I didn't come to Camelot to be a stable boy."

"You won't be." Merlin pulled another short piece of straw from Lancelot's hair and then squeezed his shoulder. "I know it looks like he's just being a bully. And when he wants to be, he is. But Arthur's also testing your endurance. He can't have a knight serving him who will quit so easily."

Lancelot looked round to him. "You think so?"

"Of course," Merlin nodded. He didn't know for sure whether it was actually true or not. But it made sense to Merlin, so he suspected that to be the reason why he was finding this lie particularly easy. "That's why he's being more of a prat than usual. To see how far you can go. You've caught his eye, Lancelot, definitely. So it can't be that much longer now."

Lancelot smiled again; a smaller version of the one Merlin saw when he told Lancelot Arthur wanted to see him. His eyelids were weighted with tiredness, as was his smile, but there was still something nervously hopeful about it. That was when Merlin started to notice that Lancelot was beginning to relax being so close to him. As Merlin squeezed his shoulder again, he noticed how the muscles beneath it were still stiff, but not nearly as much as they had been during that first night.

Merlin didn't notice the night falling right away, but by the time he did Lancelot had slumped and was dozing on his shoulder. The cloth had been dropped back into the bucket and forgotten a while ago and Merlin had picked everything from Lancelot's hair, then spent the rest of the time smoothing it back into place. He shifted back, absently toeing off his boots, and pulled Lancelot along with him. They had both quickly grown used to having to make the best of a very small space, which meant legs getting tangled, arms around each other and resting heads on shoulders and chests. It was another one of those things which wasn't ever brought up or thought about. Just done.

It was usually Merlin who ended up sleeping mostly on top of Lancelot. But with both in such a tired state there was no shifting about, finding ways to slot together and making sure they stood a good chance of not falling off the edge during the night. Instead Merlin just pulled Lancelot on top of him and felt that something stir in his chest again which was strange and a little uncomfortable but not entirely unwanted. Then he closed his eyes and was asleep.

xxxxxxx

**3:**

For all his faults, Merlin knew Arthur would be a good king once the time came, if the events of the afternoon were anything to go by. When Camelot suddenly found itself host to the wounded survivors whose village was attacked by a winged beast, Merlin had been told to go with Gaius and assist with treating their wounds. It meant Merlin would have more to do come morning to make up for it, but being allowed to just focus on helping Gaius was much easier than trying to do that and run back and forth following Arthur's orders.

The day had seemed endless as Merlin was asked to fetch and carry and crush ingredients and tighten bandages and wipe blood and dirt away to clean wounds. So he was especially glad when he found himself back in his own bed, again sprawled over Lancelot. He could feel his body becoming heavy and his mind start to fog as he slowly fell into sleep. Then he happened to slip his arm down, just to find a more comfortable position for it, and pressed against Lancelot's stomach. The result was Lancelot wincing and his body flinching away from Merlin's touch.

"What is it?" Suddenly Merlin didn't feel as tired and was able to sit up and reach to pull back Lancelot's shirt. It revealed the large bruise which had formed on his stomach, near the fading scar which had been the wound from the beast, and Merlin's eyes went wide. "How did that happen?"

"That was Prince Arthur hitting me with a broom handle."

"Been there," Merlin muttered as he recalled his not-so-great second meeting with Arthur. "But if he's at the stage where he's hitting you around, he's bound to be seriously considering you."

"He was," Lancelot said. "Right after he gave me that bruise I got accepted into basic training."

It didn't quite register with Merlin at first and he had to get Lancelot to repeat that last part. Then he was flinging his arms around Lancelot's neck, almost causing the pair of them to tumble off the bed and drawing a soft groan as he pressed up against the bruise.

"You never said anything!" Merlin cried, unable to decide whether to be more annoyed or overjoyed. Then overjoyed won. "You could have told me!"

"It was right before all those villagers turned up," Lancelot said, trying to gently move Merlin enough so he wasn't still pressing up against where Arthur had hit him. "It just didn't seem appropriate."

"They may as well just give you the knighthood now, you're more than good enough. Lancelot, I'm so happy for you!"

Merlin had no idea why he did it. He didn't even think about doing it. His senses must have taken a temporary leave because the next thing he knew he was drawing himself away from Lancelot after just having planted a kiss on the corner of his mouth. Then he realised too late what he had done and felt something heavy and cold drop itself painfully into his gut. There had been a smile on Lancelot's face, almost as though he were embarrassed at his own accomplishment, but now it was gone.

"I'm sorry," Merlin said quickly, feeling the words spill out of his mouth and tried hard not to trip them over his own tongue. "It... well... it just, sort of... slipped..."

He began to mentally kick himself for being such an absolute idiot. That strange stirring feeling in his stomach was back again, but now it was sharper and hurt as it felt as though it were slicing up his insides. What was worse was being unable to read Lancelot's facial expression. Merlin suspected he may suddenly be remembering what he said about finding some lodgings. When he was knighted Merlin guessed he would definitely have to move. He sat back, still half on top of Lancelot, and waited to be pushed off as he went to find somewhere else to sleep.

Except that didn't happen because Lancelot wasn't moving. Instead he watched Merlin with his eyebrows dipped, but not enough for it to be a frown. He looked as though he were trying to figure things out. Trying to figure Merlin out.

"I'm sorry." Merlin tried again. "I didn't..."

He didn't finish because he didn't know how. He liked Lancelot. And _liked_ Lancelot. That was that strange feeling which had been hanging around during the past few days. Merlin wished he had realised sooner, then maybe he wouldn't have been so stupid.

Suddenly his body felt heavy and tired again. He slumped forward and ended up with his forehead resting on Lancelot's collarbone. Surprisingly, Lancelot didn't try to move away.

"I really am sorry."

He felt one of Lancelot's hands rest gently on his shoulder. It shook a little until pressed down harder.

"I said I wasn't used to being close with anybody," Lancelot told him, his voice lowered. "I never let it happen. Then I found myself in Camelot, offering to share the bed otherwise you would be too stiff the next morning. What have you done to me?"

"The same thing you did to me." It sounded more of an accusation than Merlin intended. He turned himself enough to look up at Lancelot and wasn't sure what he expected to see. There was a thud of relief in his chest when he saw there wasn't any fear or disgust or anything which may resemble the want to get as far away from Merlin as possible and stay there. It was dark by now and Merlin had to push himself up to get a good look. But he was sure what he saw in Lancelot was curious interest and a little bit of understanding.

"Do you regret this or what I did?" Merlin asked, suddenly very aware of just how close they were and had been ever since Lancelot arrived. "Even a bit? I won't mind if you say yes."

He would mind. But that just didn't seem important.

Relief smashed at his chest again when Lancelot replied with; "No."

"Then will you let me try that again?"

He tried to angle himself so he wouldn't end up just hitting their noses together and making an even bigger fool of himself. But it turned out he didn't have to worry because it was Lancelot who moved his head forward and closed the gap between them. Merlin felt their teeth hit gently and he did manage to bump their noses together in the end but that was fine. He could feel the short hairs on Lancelot's chin scratch against him and his shoulder digging into him, but barely registered those things because his head was spinning so much it felt he were falling. Sometimes that feeling became too much and Merlin's chest would begin to burn because he wasn't breathing, so his body would suddenly jolt and he would break away from Lancelot's mouth. It was only for half a moment, enough for Merlin to gulp in some of the hot air surrounding them and realise he was still lying on his bed. Then he gripped at Lancelot's hair and pulled him back to kiss him again.

xxxxxxx

**4:**

Sleeping so close together meant Merlin had very quickly learned to identify those times where what Lancelot said wasn't necessarily what he meant. He had tried saying he wasn't too nervous about facing Arthur in his final test, which had been moved forward so suddenly.

Except he clearly was.

Since their first night sharing a bed, Merlin had felt Lancelot relax more and more. Never completely, at least not while Merlin was still awake, but he supposed that was just how Lancelot grew up. He didn't know much about the life of a swordsman.

On the night before the final test he could feel Lancelot's muscles tense underneath his fingers, almost as much as they had been on the first night. Merlin had tried pressing his fingers into Lancelot's arms and rubbing small circles but he was tired and hadn't been able to keep it up. Just as he was nearly asleep, Lancelot would shift uncomfortably and wake him again.

"You should sleep," Merlin said. "Otherwise you'll be too tired to fight tomorrow."

"It's that the fight is against Prince Arthur which concerns me," Lancelot said quietly. "I've seen him, during that test and during training. He's an excellent warrior."

"But you're better. You shouldn't look at him as Arthur tomorrow. He'll just be the last obstacle between you and the knighthood you deserve."

He felt Lancelot's chest swell against him and then a long exhale against his neck.

"It is what those who have a knighthood had to do."

"Exactly. So you definitely will. I believe in you, Lancelot. More than I could ever tell you." He started to feel himself sink into sleep and realised it was because Lancelot was relaxing beneath his touch. He reached, found Lancelot's hand and linked their fingers together. "This time tomorrow," he mumbled. "You shall have what you've worked so hard for. And I'm looking forward to it because I'll be so happy for you."

xxxxxxx

**5:**

Merlin wished he could remember that night properly. All he had were snatches of it, which swirled into distortion. They were memories of feeling as though his smile would stretch right off his face, but not caring. He had laughed and joked with Gwen and quickly lost track of the amount of ale he drank. Most of all he remembered seeing Lancelot, also with a smile on his face which wouldn't leave and laughs which wouldn't stop. Merlin saw a man who he had challenged the impossible for and now he had won. Lancelot had what he wanted now and everything he deserved for the life of hard work he had lived. Whenever Merlin looked towards him, whether their eyes met or not, he felt his heart thunder in his chest and didn't think he would ever stop feeling so proud of him.

He didn't have many memories of getting back from the celebration either, just vague recollections of Lancelot holding him close and steadying him on his feet. Then he must have given up, because Merlin could remember feeling himself being pulled up and carried on Lancelot's back. Merlin had wrapped his arms loosely around his neck and dozed with his face in his hair.

His completely clear memory was of waking up the next morning, with his limbs yet again tangled with Lancelot's and the feeling that his head would burst open each time he tried to lift it.

Merlin wished he had control over memory. His memory to be more precise. He wished he were able to swap the memories of Lancelot's last night in Camelot with those of the knighting celebration. Those memories would be happy ones and wouldn't leave Merlin with the feeling that his chest were ripping holes into itself and his heart were burning whenever his thoughts even vaguely went in Lancelot's direction.

After hearing of his intention to leave, he managed to convince Lancelot to stay until the next morning, telling him it was too dangerous to travel at night. There was no telling who was out there. Or what. Suppose Lancelot should come across something to fall over or into and not see it in the dark until it was too late? Suppose he got hurt and there was nobody around to help him?

Lancelot agreed to stay, but also said that he would have to leave as soon as he woke the next morning. They ended up wrapped around each other again, almost like all the other nights they had spent together, but this time Merlin couldn't sleep. He lay sprawled across Lancelot, still able to feel his own heart beating heavily and the hot pulsations lingering between his legs. Sometimes he wasn't sure if Lancelot was awake or not because he was so still. Then he would shift, pulling Merlin close to him and brushing his lips against his forehead.

"You shouldn't have to leave," Merlin said.

"I can't stay if things are like this," Lancelot replied, repeating what he had been telling Merlin since the evening. "I truly am sorry, Merlin, but I just can't."

"It isn't fair that this should happen." Merlin managed to push one arm underneath Lancelot's neck and nuzzle at his shoulder. "I've never met anybody like you before."

Merlin felt a small smile being pressed against his forehead as Lancelot said; "Guinevere said something very similar."

"She'll be sad to see you go too," Merlin said, feeling a cold stab of desperation in his gut. "She'll miss you so much as well."

Then he wished he hadn't said it, because he looked up just in time to see Lancelot's eyes close painfully. The stab of desperation turned into a strike of deep shame as he realised he was being selfish. "But you wouldn't be truly happy, would you?"

"I am the man who lied to the entire kingdom and caused a rift between King Uther and Prince Arthur." Regret was heavy in Lancelot's voice and it made Merlin's stomach twist. "That's not the man I came to Camelot in order to be. I need to better myself before perhaps daring to try again."

"Come back when Arthur is king," Merlin said, pulling himself up and resting his weight upon his elbows as he leaned over Lancelot. "He can see that the knights of Camelot are where you belong. He'll make things right for you. Promise me, Lancelot. Promise me you will."

"I promise." Lancelot reached up to run his fingers through Merlin's hair and settle his hand on the back of his neck. "I shall want to pay my respects to the new king. He'll be a good leader."

"He'll be even better when he has the best knight at his side."

Merlin was pulled back down and settled over Lancelot again, with his head resting on his shoulder. He felt Lancelot's hand run down his neck and then along his back, finally coming to rest on his hip.

"Did I ever thank you for everything you did for me, Merlin?"

"Yes." Merlin smiled, remembering all the thanks, the smiles and then the kisses. "Many times."

"You risked your life for me."

"If it weren't for you, I might not be here." Merlin lay still, waiting for Lancelot to tell him that he hadn't saved his life just so he may risk it like that. But he didn't.

"I've heard stories about what happens to those who are caught practicing magic in the kingdom of Uther Pendragon. They're terrible things. People have their heads sliced from their bodies or are burned alive," Lancelot said, tightening his grip on Merlin. "Before I came to Camelot it didn't concern me a lot. Now it's what I fear the most."

"Nothing like that shall happen to me." Merlin moved himself again, drawing himself up to properly face Lancelot and settle his hand on his cheek. "That's the promise I make to you. Trust me, I shan't get caught because there are so many things I still have to do. And I have to be here when you return."

Merlin moved his hand to the back of Lancelot's neck and curled his fingers into a light grip. He drew him in, closing that small gap between them and then felt Lancelot's lips on his.

_If I were in trouble and you knew about it_, Merlin thought to himself, letting his eyes close, _I know you would come for me. But I shan't put myself in danger for you anymore. You wouldn't want that._

xxx

When Merlin woke, he instantly felt that something was wrong. He had become so used to the feeling of Lancelot pressed up against him and their arms around each other. But now it wasn't there. He was alone in his bed.

"Lancelot?"

When he sat up, he saw him. Lancelot was near the door, ready to leave. He looked back at him and Merlin could see that everything about him hated the choice he hadn't wanted to make.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I thought it would be better this way."

Merlin sat up and his stomach swirled horribly as he asked; "There's nothing I can do to get you to stay, is there?"

Lancelot shook his head, giving the answer they both knew. "I only wish I could stay. But it's just not possible."

There were a thousand and more things Merlin knew he wanted to say to Lancelot. But he couldn't remember any of them. So he had to make do with going over to Lancelot so he may reach out and catch the back of his neck again. The kiss was quick. Too quick. It would have never been long enough. When Lancelot pulled away with another soft apology on his lips, Merlin heard the soft creak of the door handle being turned. He said the very first thing which suddenly came to mind.

"I love you."

Lancelot couldn't answer because by the time the words left Merlin's mouth the door had started to open and then he had to go. Merlin saw the tight set of Lancelot's jaw as he steeled himself to take that step out of the room and the way his shoulders were raised with tense muscles. He saw the look in Lancelot's eyes and knew what it was.

_I love you._

Then he was gone and Merlin found himself looking at the closed door and listening to the sound of footsteps getting further away. He turned around and leaned his back against the door as he listened to quick words being exchanged between Lancelot and Gaius. But he didn't hear what they were. His mind was swirling with something which made his eyes sting and something which crushed at his chest. He just stared ahead of him, at his bed which lay empty and nothing else.

There was a knock on the door and Gaius called; "Merlin? Are you up yet?"

"Yes," Merlin called back. "I'll just be a minute."

"Be quick now."

As he heard Gaius descending the small staircase leading to his bedroom, Merlin bent his knees so he may slide down the door, sit on the floor and hunch over. He curled himself up as much as he could and clutched so tightly at his own hair he felt as though a twitch of his wrist would tear it out. His body shook, a lump formed in his throat that felt it were trying to choke him and his heart ached so much he felt he would die at any second.

It hurt so much.

_**END**_


End file.
